And so it seemed they were. It explained why Tommy had left Abra at the cottages for today. The little dog would have been beside herself with terror at the resounding boom the things made when the time came.
Oliver, however, was beyond delighted, even if he had just suffered a permanent blow to his hearing.
“Can they do it again, Mama?” he said afterward, tugging at her hand and jumping on his heels. “One more time?!”
Freddy had put his hands in his pockets and observed the exchange with open enjoyment. “Yes, Mama,” he had repeated, “just once more? We all enjoy a good repeat explosion.”
“I will suffocate you in your sleep, Freddy Hightower,” she responded serenely, beneath the cover of the cheers.
“I was counting on it,” he replied, leaning a little closer and grinning at the way she immediately turned pink.
The first games, mercifully, were not the kicking of shins or the slapping of beer towels, but instead some more standard sporting fare. There were some combat bouts with wooden swords and cudgels on one end of the field, and on the other some sort of display with small horses.
Claire was overruled for which they would attend, unable to dissuade her son from the siren’s call of swords and hammers. Admittedly, itwasrather thrilling, once she got settled in to watch.
“Care to place a bet, Lord Bentley?” came the call of one of the game masters, approaching Freddy through the crowd like he’d known him all his life. “We’ve got good odds on a few of the players.”
Claire froze, her fingers tightening on Oliver’s little shoulders. She couldn’t even force herself to turn her head to watch the exchange, its words floating untethered in the air around them.
But then Freddy shook his head, clapped the man on the shoulder, and said, “I’m not a betting man.”
I’m not a betting man.
Claire couldn’t help but look then. Couldn’t help but turn her head and see her own look of shocked incredulity reflected in the games master.
“A joke, my lord?” the man said with a crooked tilt to his head.
“Ah, Iama joking man,” Freddy said with an easy grin, “but I’ll have to think of a good one later. The fight is about to start.”
Claire blinked and quickly diverted her attention back to the arena, not wishing to embarrass Freddy or otherwise cause him discomfort by merit of her presence for the interaction. To her surprise, he did not seem to falter or grieve for the resistance he had just displayed to his most potent compulsion.
It didn’t seem to trouble him at all.
He moved closer to them, closer to Claire and Oliver, and looped an arm around her waist, dropping his hand over hers on their son’s shoulder.
When she did glance at him again, because she simply couldn’t resist at that point, he only spared her a quick flick of his eyes, half a smile, and a wink.
She didn’t intend to do it, but by the time the bout had ended, Claire realized she had come to lean against him, as though she might share in his newfound strength.
And he let her, because he seemed now to have plenty to share.
CHAPTER 23
The bonfires were lit as the sun began its final stage of setting, the sky still a brilliant violet above them. The smell was something Freddy remembered like a lifelong dream, the spark and sizzle and smoke. It stirred the child that still lived within him, reminding him of how much grander and sprawling all of this had looked when he was little.
When he was little like Oliver.
The boy was with his mother just ahead as he was handed back to his governess, who would tuck him in for the night and wait with him at the cottage until his parents returned. Claire was talking to the governess, the wooden sword she’d purchased for their son held loosely in her hand at her side, where the “blade” vanished and reappeared in the wind-blown folds of her skirt.
It was almost as long as Oliver was, but that only seemed to delight the boy.
“She looks well with a sword,” said Tommy from his side, leaning on her walking stick, “doesn’t she?”
He gave a scoffing little laugh, glancing down at his grandmother. “You are a real instigator. Do you know that?”
She scoffed right back, mocking him. “Where do you think you got it from, boy?”
It made him laugh. He shook his head, glancing back to Claire as she knelt to pass the too-large sword to their son.
